As Ever It Will Be
by Rjalker
Summary: Sam comes to a decision that has the potential to change the world itself.


**As Ever It Will Be**

**Created on 8/3/13, 11:42PM**

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_One week after the Morton House incident._

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Sam stared down at the flashdrive in his hand, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

The sound of the door opening had him looking up from the bed he'd been sitting at to see Dean poke his head inside, "Hey, you ready? C'mon, before that crazy chick shows up again!" His older brother urged, grinning widely.

Sam managed a grin of his own, and lifted a hand to wave his brother off, "Uh, yeah, yeah," He said, closing his hand around the flashdrive and slipping it out of sight off the edge of the bed, "Just give me a minute, I'll be right out. Just a few more things to grab" He made a sweeping gesture of the room, with his free hand, where he'd made sure to leave a few of his things still sitting out.

"Alright, well don't take too long," Dean said, then laughed, sounding as hyped up as though he'd had ten cups of coffee, "I don't know about you, Sammy, but I _really_ don't want to be here when that girl shows up again." He slapped the doorframe with his hand, shot Sam another grin, and ducked back out the door.

Sam's breath caught in his throat for a moment, and his heart began to race before he bit down on his lip as he fought the automatic response that made him want to tear out of that door after his brother so that he could keep him in sight. Keep him _safe_. Or at least so he could be there for the last moment before the—

A thousand horrors flashed through his mind at once.

Screams rang in his head. Blood splashed across his vision. A day lived a thousand times. Burned into his mind like a scar that would never heal. A thousand days. A thousands deaths. Dragging him down into the pits of despair that until a few weeks ago, he'd thought he'd managed to escape for good. The horror rose up in him anew.

A scream clawed its way up his throat.

_No, no_, _no!_ He clenched his hands into fists and closed his eyes tightly enough that colored light flashed behind them. _That's over, it's not like that anymore. Today is Friday. It is _not_ Tuesday. Everything is fine. Everything is fine. Just calm down, Sam. Just calm down._

The voice he heard in his head was Dean's, adamant and protective. He'd heard the words often enough, the same mantra repeated so many times whenever he felt himself slipping back into that day that had gone on for years that it was the only thing that managed to break through the cloud of fear and horror that took over his mind everytime he forgot. Though it had only been two weeks since he'd woken up to find himself returned to the Wednesday that had changed his life forever, as soon as Dean realized what was going on, he'd been like a man possessed.

At the slightest hint that anything was wrong, Dean would be at his side, calming him down and bringing him back to reality with the promise that they were both safe now, and he'd never let anything like that happen again.

And now even without Dean there, the words calmed him, and slowly, his heart rate crept back down and his breathing evened out until he was just sitting on the bed in the cheap hotel room they'd rented, his breathing still a bit ragged with the memory of fear, but his mind cleared of the horror he'd been forced to live through over and over again until he'd almost gone insane.

It was only when he noticed that his hand hurt that he remembered he was still holding the flashdrive.

His eyes widened, and he quickly unclenched his fist to make sure he hadn't damaged it. The blue and white plastic seemed to be fine, though, and he sighed in relief before momentarily dropping his head into his hands, the weight of the flashdrive's contents seeming to him as heavy as though the earth had suddenly reversed gravity to claim it as its own.

He lifted his head, and got to his feet before the part of his mind that had argued against his decision reared up again to once again make him doubt himself.

But he knew he was making the right decision. He'd had two years to figure it all out, after all.

Moving across the room, he pulled open the bottom drawer of the dresser and grabbed the blank envelope and pen he'd left in it.

Hurrying back to the small table that occupied the 'dining room', he grabbed a piece of stationary off a holder on the wall, tore off the bottom edge that held the name of the motel, and quickly scrawled out as neatly as he could while writing as fast as possible, _I know what I said before. I was wrong. You were right. People have the right to know. We thought the world wasn't ready. But it will __never__ be ready if we don't give it the chance. I know this now._

_Keep doing what you're doing, but please, be __safe__ about it. If you get into anything over your heads, or hear anything you think might be too much to handle on your own, __call us__. Asking for help doesn't make you weak. It just means you've got friends that'll look out for you._

_If you can get someone to accept it, send me the channel number as soon as you've got it confirmed, and I'll try to keep Dean from seeing it as long as I can, or at least as long as it takes to bring him around to the idea. Good luck, and stay safe._

_I know you'll do great._

_-Sam_

The message finished, he folded the paper in half and then again, and stuck it in the envelope. Then he grabbed the scrap of cloth he'd cut from his sweatshirt—torn to shreds in an encounter with a vengeful spirit a month back—and wrapped it around the flashdrive, hoping it would work to cushion the device on its journey.

Dropping the flashdrive into the envelope, he stuck on the special label he'd printed out, then lifted the paper to his mouth so he could lick the seal. Grimacing at the taste, he made sure it was closed tightly, then set it down next to the room key they'd been given so that he could shove the rest of his things into his bag.

After giving the room one last once-over, he slung his bag over his shoulder, grabbed the envelope and the room key, turned the light off, and left the room.

Dean was waiting with the Impala, and Sam dropped his bag through the open window onto the passenger seat, then leaned down so he could look through and held up the keys to show Dean, the envelope hidden behind his back in his free hand as he did so. "I'm going to return this fast," He said, straightening after he saw his brother's nod of acknowledgement and jogging down the short distance to the motel's main building.

He returned the key to the owner, who made him promise that they would come back if they were ever in the area again, and stuck the letter in the mailbox just inside the door, exchanged a final, friendly wave with the owner of the motel, and left the building.

Dean had pulled the car up to the front of the parking lot, and he climbed inside, the familiar smell of the leather seats and upholstery calming the slight edge of anxiety that hadn't completely disappeared after his panic attack. Now that Dean was back in his sight and they were both in the car, that fateful Tuesday and the Wednesday that had finally followed it was safely secured once more out of reach in the back of his mind.

Shutting the door and feeling the walls of his home close in comfortingly around him, he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

Dean noticed, like he always did, but he didn't say anything, just shot Sam one of his trademark Dean Winchester smiles, and said, "So, you ready to leave this town in the dust?"

Sam couldn't help but grin back. "Definitely," He said, grabbing his bag from the floor by his feet and dropped it into the back seat as they started to pull out of the parking lot, "You know, I guess this is just one of those moments where you don't know what you have until it's gone." He leaned back against the seat, his hands pillowed comfortably behind his head as he closed his eyes and just let himself enjoy the feeling of being moving again.

Dean chuckled, "Yeah I know," He said, "You only miss the road when you've been forced to leave it." He patted the dashboard, "So where to, Sammykins?" Even though he couldn't see him, Sam could imagine the grin that was probably on his brother's face.

Picturing the envelope and the future it would create, Sam opened his eyes, and turned to look at his brother, real hope in his voice for the first time in a while. "Wherever the road takes us," He said, reaching forward to turn on the radio, "Wherever the road takes us."

He paused to indentify the song, then frowned slightly when he realized he didn't recognize it. But he didn't switch stations. It wasn't the normal rock they listened to, but he sort of…liked it. It felt…familiar, somehow. Like he'd heard it somewhere before, but had forgotten. After a second of hesitation, he turned the volume up.

Dean shot him a thoughtful look, obviously trying to decide whether or not he liked the song. After a moment, he nodded, a smile breaking out across his face as he started to nod his head to the rhythm of the song. Grinning, Sam once more pillowed his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.

The week they'd been confined to the town while the car was repaired had been more taxing than he'd thought. He was exhausted.

They drove off into the distance, windows rolled down and music playing for all the heavens to hear even as they disappeared from sight.

And even then, an echo of the music seemed to linger in the air, as though unwilling to fade away just yet. As though wanting to savor the taste of freedom for a few seconds more…

_…and this is not our fate…_

...before fading into the sky…

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**Finished on 8/4/13, 3:37PM**

**Edited to perfection on 9/15/13, 6:51PM**


End file.
